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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25236304">A fake marriage of inconvenience</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_is_tired/pseuds/L_is_tired'>L_is_tired</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Team Fortress 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Lovers, Fake Marriage, M/M, because i make the rules here &gt;:3, hesitant cuddling, or at least shaky allies to lovers, spy battles with depression, tags will be add later, there will be only one bed, trans Engie, trans spy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:34:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25236304</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_is_tired/pseuds/L_is_tired</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spy gets a big contract, a challenge for once. The catch? He needs to play the role of a happy husband with the only man who could reasonably take the job with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sniper/Spy (Team Fortress 2)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/15162842">That Marriage is a Spy!</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emyria/pseuds/Emyria">Emyria</a>.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    René Alexandre. The RED Spy. Nameless. Faceless. He repeated this mantra in the mirror. It was a Sunday, so no work, and potential new contracts for the next week. He convinced himself he looked forward to this day, brewing himself a pot of coffee he could never finish. He fooled himself into believing it wasn’t a waste, that he’s worth it. He wrapped himself in a plush robe, dragged a cigarette out of its case in stiff, mechanical motions, and lit it. Now… To wait. </p><p>    His ears rung, a side effect from noisy battlefields five days a week. He begged himself to get up from his chair, put on a record, anything. The silence wrapped around his body, confining him. Or was it depression? He didn’t know, and he didn’t like to think about that diagnosis from the medic. And finally, it rang. Spy Snatched up the phone, begging for anyone, anything.</p><p>    “Hey Spy, it’s Pauling. Look, I got a contract here, a big one, you up for it?” The Administrator’s assistant asked urgently over the phone.</p><p>    Spy took a drag from his cigarette, clutching the receiver in his smoking room. “I always am, aren’t I? I do hope this one will be a challenge, though. These latest ones have been dreadfully easy, I fear my skills will dull.”</p><p>    “Yeah, well, you’re gonna get it, and you’re gonna hate it, probably. TF industries standard disclaimer, this contract does not promote any romantic or sexual relations between co-workers, your fake identity will end as soon as the contract does, I’d advise you to burn the rings.”</p><p>    “... Excuse me?” Spy blinked.</p><p>    “Gotta go, bye- You’ll be faxed-” Pauling hung up. He took a deep sigh, rubbing his temples, waiting for the details to come in. Spy had personally requested faxing contracts instead of the Contracker, preferring to read paper rather than a screen, it made his eyes dry out.</p><p>    Spy took his latest contract in his hands, reading it carefully. René was no stranger to fake identities, for sure, but this was just insulting. A married man moving to Australia to settle down and retire? Well… He <em> did </em> ask for a challenge, and this certainly seemed to be one.</p><p>     “[To give me a persona with a partner… What a sick joke… At least I get to pick who will be my husband.]” The Frenchman mused in his native tongue, deciding to scope out the seven candidates and find a match quickly to get this charade over with.</p><p>      He dressed in his standard suit and tie, put on the Cloak and Dagger, and left to research. Finally, a reason to get out of his room. Even if it meant watching his colleagues be idiots for the day. No one had to know he secretly liked it. These were his thoughts:</p><p>       Soldier was far too honest and blunt for the mission, Pyro would draw attention with their suit and demeanor, not to mention probably hates Spy, Demo would be too drunk and genuine, Heavy wouldn’t like being separated from his Doctor, Medic the same, and to Spy’s dismay, he scared Spy too much to convincingly be in love with him, Engie would never agree to willingly spend that time with Spy, and That left Sniper.</p><p>       He was quiet, secretive, knew the land and would stay out of the way. His best bet. Now to just ask.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>       Spy steeled his nerves and knocked on the camper van door. He waited, listening to the shuffles and clattering that usually meant Sniper was preparing to answer. The blinds twitched open, before the metal door swung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Spy? I swear, it was an accident and I cleaned it up-” Sniper winced</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “... What? What did you do?” Spy narrowed his eyes, before Mundy shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Worry about it later, what brings ya by, mate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Spy took a deep breath, exhaling smoke “I have a big contract I can’t do alone. You’re the least awful to take it with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Gee, thanks.” Sniper deadpanned. “Thought you said you’d never take another contract with me again, after I apparently ‘breathed too loud’. I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>asthma,</span>
  </em>
  <span> mate.” He huffed. Spy internally cursed himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “I… I lied. Please join me. It’s to Australia.” Spy passed over a copy of the details.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Sniper raised an eyebrow, looking through it before stopping, breaking into laughter “You want </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> to act like I’m married to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you?!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wheezed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “It won’t be me, I will be acting as someone else. You won’t even remember I’m there until we’re behind closed doors.” Spy tried, starting to get desperate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Sniper calmed down a bit with a sigh “Is it gonna pay well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Of course it will.” Spy folded his arms, almost offended Sniper would think he’d take a cheap contract.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      He pondered for a moment “... Yeah, I guess. I do miss Australia...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Excellent.” Spy returned to his prideful persona, satisfied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “So... When’re we leavin’?”  Sniper leaned against the doorframe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “A week from now. I will rent a car and pick you up. Pack sensibly, bring jars and I’m kicking you out.” Spy threatened, a habit he couldn’t, or perhaps just wouldn’t break.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Wash yer masks, yeah? They reek.” Mundy snickered</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I wash them daily, Bushman. But... Fine. Deal.” Spy held out a hand to shake, and Sniper took it.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>     As promised, the next week Spy drove the rental car up to the van, honking the horn. Sniper stumbled out, lugging a battered suitcase behind him. He tried to open the door but it was locked. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>      René what are you doing? Let the man in. Unlock the car. Let him in.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Spy demanded of himself as Sniper tapped the glass. Spy rubbed his unmasked face, trying not to panic. He mustered a mischievous grin, a mask to hide his vulnerability as he lowered the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Can I help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Please unlock the car, mate…” Sniper panted “This thing’s bloody heavy”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Spy pretended to think, crafting an idea, warping his panic into a joke. “Hm, well, you see I am about to leave for a contract, and I don’t take clowns with me.” He laughed smugly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Oh my god I hate you- I dressed up for this, ya wanker! Let me in ‘fore I break the window and then yer face.” Mundy growled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Spy finally relented, unlocking the door. Sniper tossed his suitcase in the backseat and got in beside Spy, flipping him off. In turn, Spy smiled, turning himself into the epitome of smugness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Y’remember when ya said you weren’t gonna be mean to me?” The bushman huffed, buckling up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “No, I don’t. Must have slipped my mind.” Spy hit the road, adjusting his sunglasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “I can’t believe I’m excited for the mission, because then you might actually be tolerable to be around.” Sniper growled, curling up to nap on the way to the airport. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     And now he’s alone with his thoughts. Stewing in silence with how much Sniper’s words hurt. But that’s only fair, considering how Spy decided to act. He turned on the radio, the volume low enough not to disturb his passenger. It was some sad song, only feeding into Spy’s pity party. It was about thirty minutes until they reached the airport closest to Teufort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      He found a parking place and mustered a smile, molding himself into a sweet gentleman, the perfect husband. He slid a ring onto Sniper’s finger, then his own, and began to gently shake Sniper awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Alex dear, we’re here…” Spy cooed, his voice warm. This made Sniper jolt awake, uneased by the change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Gh- H-how did you- How do you know my name?” He leaned against the door, rubbing his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Spy chuckled, removing a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe some drool from Sniper’s mouth. “I know everyone’s name, Mundy. You can call me Jacques for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Sniper folded his arms, deciding in his bleariness to be a little shit. “What if I want a fake name, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Don’t be obtuse. Besides, how do you know that one’s fake, hm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “... You’re Spy? Why the hell wouldja use yer real name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Spy laughed, checking his watch “You’re smarter than you look, at least right now. Hurry, we need to catch our flight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Sniper grumbled to himself, getting out and fetching his suitcase, waiting for ‘Jacques’ to do the same. His soft expression is surprisingly genuine when he sees his false husband join him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Shall we, my dear?” Jacques sticks out his elbow for Alex to hold onto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Been hopin’ you’d say that Jackie.” He kissed Spy’s forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Spy stopped dead for a moment. He wasn’t expecting a kiss and without his mask, he couldn’t hide his surprise and fluster. He would enact revenge for this, that was for sure. They walked in and gave over their tickets and bags to be checked. And their passports, too. Sniper of course wanted to know if Spy’s passport was real or not, though he couldn’t tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      They put their rings and shoes in a tray at the metal detector, though it went off anyway when it came to Spy. He had forgotten to leave his knife behind at the base.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Ah- Pardon me, I-” Jacques was starting to weave a story, when Alex cut him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Oh, that’s just his Honeymoon knife! Old Australia tradition.” Alex smiled easily, as if this was a common fact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      The worker gave him a stare of disbelief, calling for some authentication. She seemed annoyed when it was confirmed. “... have a nice Honeymoon.” She sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The two left the metal detectors, breathing a sigh of relief. Spy cleared his throat. “I’m impressed by your quick thinking. Are you sure you’re a Sniper?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sniper laughed nervously “I dunno, I just… Y’like yer knives, and… I uh… Yeah.” He trailed off awkwardly, blushing. “Oh hey, gift shop!” He pointed at the welcome change of topic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Ah, yes. Listen to me. I will pick out an item, when we return, give it to Scout and say it’s from you.” He walked quickly towards the gift shop, leaving Sniper to hurry and catch up, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Huh? Wh- Mate, why can’tcha give it yerself?” He asked softly, admiring some novelty mugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Spy sighed. “It is something a man not well versed in espionage would not understand. Now, would you keep it down before someone hears?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Try me later, then” He set the mug down, deciding to conserve his money for when he touched down in Australia and get it converted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Spy pressed a rabbit plush to his neck, scrutinizing its stitching and fabric in silence. Deeming it worthy, he purchased it and some water for them both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You think you’re gonna need two waters while we wait?” Sniper asked, finding a nice seat in the waiting area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I was under the assumption that the man who irreparably damaged his kidneys for revenge would need to stay hydrated. However, if I am mistaken, then sure. I’ll need two bottles of water.” He handed it to Alex, sanitizing the area beside him and sitting there where he cleaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I… Didn’t think it was for me is all.” He mumbled, embarrassed by Spy’s response, He cracked it open and sipped, leaning back. Exhausted from packing, he couldn’t help but eye Spy’s shoulder, wanting to rest on him for a nap. He starts to lean in, his blinks hard to escape from, when…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “May I help you?” Spy held Sniper in place with a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Sorry- ‘m really tired…” The sleepy Aussie rubbed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Spy thought for a moment, then sighed. “... Tell anyone I let you do this and your mother will get a lovely package containing your eyeballs and nothing else.” He let Sniper rest on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “... Thanks, mate…” Sniper yawned, dozing off.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>   “Queue for flight TF-9, queue for flight TF-9” A voice on the intercom called after what felt like a good hour of waiting. Spy shook Sniper, attempting to wake him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Bushman, wake up.” He called quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Five more minutes…” He grumbled, pushing his hat down. Spy shoved him harder, making Sniper tumble to the ground “A- W-what the hell was that for?!” He rubbed his eyes, grumpy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I assumed you didn’t want to miss our flight.” Spy suppressed a mischievous grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Coulda just said that.” He stood up, dusting off. Not thinking, he held his hand out to hold, and… Somehow, Spy took it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “... Why are we holding hands?” Spy raised an eyebrow, heading toward the queue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “We’re playin’ husbands, aren’t we? You gotta give me attention” Alex elbowed his companion playfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I pity your future partner for having to tend to someone so needy.” He teased back, joining the line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   They waited with some quiet banter and boarded, Sniper noticeably getting tenser once inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Hey, we’re close to the emergency exit, right?” He asked Spy, clutching his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You have eyes, mon cher.” He pulled a book from his jacket, starting to read even though he really needed glasses for this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “H- Right- Right-.... When we takeoff, take yer feet offa the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Why?” Spy Narrowed his eyes, confused. After a glance at Sniper, he understood. “... You’re scared of planes? How on earth did you immigrate here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “A horrid, horrid plane ride.” He trembled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Spy tried not to show concern or tenderness. “You’re a grown man, and it didn’t crash. You’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “God, I know it’s stupid, I know I’m stupid- I-I’m sorry asked, I won’t bug.” Alex tugged at his hat, trying not to curl in on himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “... I’ll order you some ginger ale. You may...” Spy dragged out a long sigh. “You may hold my hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sniper grabbed Spy’s hand with a death grip, making Spy bite back a yelp. The plane took off and Sniper was a nervous wreck. Spy put away his book and spent his time on flight tending to his ‘husband’. Only to keep the act up, of course. No other reason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    By the time they touched down, Spy and Sniper rested against each other, sleeping peacefully. They left the plane together, retrieved their bags, and went to rent a car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “So, was that really so hard?” Spy teased, looking around the rental warehouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You, uh… Made it easier.” Sniper blushed, embarrassed to admit it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “... Well, I’m glad. This is still terribly embarrassing behavior you exhibited.” Spy hurried to rent a car, hide his face, hide his emotions. He shouldn’t say such mean things, but he can’t help himself. It clearly hurt Sniper but he doesn’t stop. It’s how he was made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Yeah, I know.” Alex sighed wearily, heading outside for a smoke.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>     Spy exited the rental car place, jingling keys. “For </span>
  <em>
    <span>shame</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Alex. Leaving your husband behind to do paperwork.” He teased, trying to pick the mood up a bit after being rude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Sniper shrunk a bit, putting out his cigarette and throwing it away. “Sorry- Didn’t really think ya wanted me in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Spy’s false smile faltered “I was only teasing. My apologies. Let’s head home, oui?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Yeah.” Sniper trudged to the parking lot. “So where’s our rental, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “The black MG B.” He gestured to it, leading the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that’s supposed to mean something.” Sniper kept in line with him, not recognizing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “It’s a sports car, how do you not know that?” He clicked the unlock button, getting in the driver’s seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Well gee, Scout, I don’t really look into cars not worth the money. I’m happy with my van.” Sniper rolled his eyes, buckling up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Spy kept his mouth shut, despite wanting to remark something along the lines of ‘like father, like son’, but he needed to keep that secret as quiet as possible. The drive was silent. Almost uncomfortably so. Finally, Spy decided to speak up after five minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “So, did you bring anything to do on the trip?” Spy asked, lilting slightly like one of his most comforting disguises, a character he made himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Yeah.” Sniper answered simply, stimming by tapping on the door of the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “... What did you bring?” He tried again, desperate to keep the ringing from his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Sniper shifted, uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be mocked. “Y’know… Stuff…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Spy sighed. He only brought this on himself, being so awful. Why didn’t he stop? Why didn’t he put on a mask of a friendly person when he started? “I personally brought my cross-stitching. I bought the sampler a while ago but never think to finish it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Sniper studied Spy’s face. “Funny joke?” He wasn’t laughing, though. He thought Spy was mocking him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “No, Alex- Sniper- I’m not joking.” He rubbed his temples. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “But you made fun of me fer sewin’...” Alex mumbled, confused and feeling a bit strange from hearing his name in such a private place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I know what I did… One could think of me as a hypocrite.” Spy stared at the road, nervous from coming so close to admitting a flaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “... Uh… I brought sewin’ stuff, some… Some costumes to play around in. Cassettes of some books I like.” Sniper wasn’t sure of how to feel. Was Spy trying to be better? Was this a trick?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “What sort of books?” Spy asked, excited to get a little progress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Don’t- Don’t make fun of me… Werewolf and vampire romances.” Sniper coughed awkwardly</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     That caught Spy off guard, making him crack up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I knew it- I knew you were gonna trick me.” He groaned, upset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “No, no- It’s… Cute, I think. A soft side to the scruffy assassin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Sniper narrowed his eyes, still a bit suspicious. “What do you read, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “My tastes are varied and sporadic.” Spy responded cooly, parking in the driveway of their temporary home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      The two got out, and Spy locked the door. “This is… Cozy.” Sniper commented, walking up the steps. It was small, a home specifically for a couple. It had a little porch with a swing, two stories, and shuttered windows painted a rich brown to complement the pale yellow siding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “... She secured us a one-bedroom home, didn’t she?” Spy scowled, unlocking the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “H-hey, y’don’t gotta be mad. I’ll sleep on the couch.” Sniper offered, following Spy inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “So I can hear how your back pops after a night like that? No, thank you. No… You’ll just have to sleep beside me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Mate, really, it’s okay. We can make a pallet on the floor outta blankets, I’ll be fine.” Sniper tried to assure, seeming to be… Nervous…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Spy took out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a drag. “... Put this argument on pause. We probably need to go grocery shopping.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>    “Oh god, do we have to?” Sniper grimaced “The airport was so loud, and grocery store, too…? Can’t it wait?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Instead of answering the question like a normal human being, Spy deadpanned, silently heading inside the kitchen. He opened the empty fridge and mimed getting out ingredients, measuring them out into a bowl, whisking them together, pouring absolute thin air, fucking nothing into a pan, and throwing it into an oven “I hope you like your brownies airy, Alex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “What the fuck is wrong with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I have been up since 4:00 AM yesterday with only a </span>
  <em>
    <span>minuscule</span>
  </em>
  <span> nap, babysitting the world’s most idiotic Sniper.” Spy snarled, only seeming to be emboldened by Sniper's anger. This is what he was trained to thrive off of. Negativity, hatred. He was trained to accept it as the only thing worth seeking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    "I'm not stupid- w-would you shut up? I'll go! Fine!" Sniper huffed, folding his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    "Oh, I'm sorry, if I recalled correctly, you actually dropped out of high school." Spy took out a cigarette to take a victory smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     "Soldier dropped outta middle school, what's yer point?! I already said I'll go, stop bein' a prick."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Spy smirked, wishing he was taller than Sniper for this. He'll make do, however. “You know, you remind me of a young me. I believe I was what? Two, when I last acted this way? Oh, but at least my parents loved me then, unlike yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Alex always thought himself a decently humorous guy. The butt of the joke a lot, sure, but he could still laugh it off and feel bad later. Not this time. This was too personal. His head swam and his face clouded. “Y… H… You-” He started to hyperventilate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     And Spy knew he went too far, but he couldn’t stop himself. He filled his role, he played the part of the bad guy and would until the day he died without intervention. So he just smiled. “Oh, it’s all right, I’m sure someone will love you, someday. If you looked in the dumpster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sniper wiped at tears in his eyes. He said nothing. He couldn’t, it was too much. The spy had played upon Sniper’s greatest insecurities. So he dragged himself out of the room in silence, going to find a closet to sob in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    And Spy was alone again. Why can’t he ever do anything right? His hands trembled as he shoved his mask back on. He deserved to be alone, it was the one thing he was good at. He’s not good at making friends or joking around. But he is good at hiding, so that’s what he does.    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   He tossed aside the cigarette he had just taken, choosing one that had Her. His safety. His freedom. His greatest friend and worst critic. He takes a smoke, releasing himself into the safety of a persona not punished for feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Rosalee, Spy’s oldest persona by far, adjusted her dress in the mirror and went out to go grocery shopping. Her crimson lips were curled in a cheerful smile as she drove, stocking up and paying without incident. She came back home, removed her lace gloves and fluffed her auburn hair. She set to work making shepherd’s pie, a dish she heard was one of Sniper’s favorites.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Once it was done, Rosalee found the closet Sniper hid in and knocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “No one’s home…” Sniper responded weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “That’s a shame, seeing as I have a fresh shepherd’s pie for a very special man right here.” She cooed, wanting to get him out and not thinking about the fact he wouldn’t recognize her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sniper yelped, charging out with his kukri to Rosalee’s throat. “Who are you?! Why are you here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Oh, you look so pretty…” She reached up, gently wiping a tear from Sniper’s eye. “I’m not here to hurt you, dear. I just wanted to apologize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “That doesn’t explain </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit!</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’re here to stop us from the Australium cache, aren’tcha?! Where’s Spy?!” He snarled, voice becoming raw from yelling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You don’t really care where he is, do you? I mean… He hurt you. He hurts everyone.” Rosalee sat up, outstretching her arms. “But I am here! I’m Rosalee!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sniper slashed at the imposter, Rosalee unable to get away with him pinning her down. Spy gasped in pain, exclaiming “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mon Dieu, cette putain de douleur!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “... Spy? What in the hell’re you doing?” Sniper tried to hide how his face heated up in embarrassment. He should’ve known it was Spy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    In response, Rosalee pulled out a blood-spattered card. ‘Rosalee Owens. If you are reading this card, I’ve probably fucked up somehow and want to be nice. I know it’s stupid, and you aren’t happy with me. That makes two of us.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “... Are you… Okay?” Is all Sniper can think to ask. What else is there to say?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Well, I seem to have been slashed, but I made shepherd’s pie, so pretty good!” Rosalee responded sweetly</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “No. I’m talkin’ to Spy. Is Spy okay?” Sniper frowned, getting off of the wounded colleague and leading them into the bathroom to get a bandage “Shit, ‘m sorry. I think you might need stitches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Absolutely not.” Spy seethed, before clearing his throat. “I mean, the offer is sweet, but the wound is earned. Besides, it isn’t deep. It’ll only scar, perhaps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “You still haven’t answered, Spy.” Sniper gently washed the wound off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “This Spy you keep speaking of is fine. Nothing’s wrong at all.” Rosalee kissed his forehead, making his fluster more than patching up someone he cared about already did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Well, this Spy I keep speakin’ of, I think I’d like to eat dinner with him.” He wrapped gauze carefully around Spy, who finally relented, undisguising. “... This isn’t a good way to deal with things mate. If anythin’, I’m more upset, havin’ to have to fix a wound that coulda been avoided by just… Talkin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “You ought to be happy Bushman. You won.” Spy was pale, and judging by how his makeup ran, had been crying too. Sniper said nothing, wiping Spy’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Won? I… You sound insane. There isn’t a competition here. I don’t wanna see you like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “... You bother me. I don’t understand you. You act this way to me for nothing in return.”  Spy groaned, resting his head against the toilet tank lid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Let’s not worry ‘bout that. You need to rest. I’ll take ya to the bedroom and get plates… Thanks fer the pie.” Sniper smiled softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Rosalee made it.” Spy tried to separate the two identities, get distance between his good and evil in others’ eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Sniper raised an eyebrow, trying to decide whether or not Spy was full of shit. “You helped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Too tired to argue, or maybe, just maybe okay with that chip at his facade, he relents, holding onto Sniper for support as they go to the bedroom for dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     “I didn’t know you could bake like this.” Sniper raised an eyebrow, looking down at his pie in surprise.</p><p>     “I can’t-” Spy started, before a look from sniper told him not to pull this again. “... I borrowed the recipe from your mother.”</p><p>    “You know my mum?” Alex cleaned his glasses off with his shirt.</p><p>    Spy chuckled, scratching under his mask carefully “By borrow I mean I scanned it while she was out once, I was on contract here.”</p><p>    “Why the hell’d you do that?” The bushman snorted, laying back. “... Not for my sake, right?”</p><p>    Spy turned his head to face the wall, not wanting Spy to catch his fluster. “... Classified.”</p><p>    Sniper broke into laughter “You bloody dumbass- Classified?! What the hell does that mean?” He tried to calm his laughter down a touch before imitating Spy’s accent “ ‘This is a highly technical heist for Mama Mundy’s Shepherd pie recipe, unfortunately, I smelled so bad she came and smacked at me with her broom! Woe is me, mon dieu!’ “ Sniper broke into laughter again after the mockery, just managing to set his plate down before falling off the bed and onto the floor.</p><p>    “It’s not like that! I just figured… Well, you might be more likely to relax if you had food from home. That’s all.” Spy crossed his arms, wincing as they hit his fresh wound.</p><p>    “Softie” Alex snickered. “But… Thanks. I’ve been missin’ it.” He got back on the bed, kicking his boots off and curling up. His socks were pale pink, with little koalas on them.</p><p>    “You dare call me a softie wearing socks like that?” Spy gently teased, too exhausted to be meaner.</p><p>    “I can at least admit I’m softer off-field, I don’t think you could admit anythin’ if you were held at gunpoint.” Sniper playfully kicked Spy’s shin, not nearly enough to hurt, even if Spy acted like it did.</p><p>    “I’ve been jaded towards death, what can I say?” Spy grinned cheekily as he shrugged, giving Sniper leeway to be even more playful.</p><p>    “Not for long!” Alex sat on top of Spy’s legs “Not when I sentence ya to death by, uh… By…” Sniper tried to make a plan.</p><p>    Spy rolled his eyes, continuing to eat his pie. “Please do hurry up with this death sentence Mundy, I’d like to go to bed soon.”</p><p>    “I’m gonna bloody freeze your mask when ya sleep, how about that?” Alex flicked Spy’s nose, before pausing in embarrassment as he just realized <em> who </em> he’s sitting on and how this man hasn’t knocked him off yet.</p><p>    “I won’t be wearing it tomorrow anyway. Besides, if I was, I have spares.” Spy hadn’t yet seemed to notice the intimacy of where the two were. </p><p>    “... Right…” Sniper got off, his face hot, and scarfed down the rest of his dinner.</p><p>    “Hungry, are you?” Spy commented, before his expression became more mischievous. “Or just a bit hot under the collar?” </p><p>    “You’re a bloody rat, you know?” Sniper scoffed, taking the now empty plates to the kitchen.</p><p>    “You’ve told me before!” Spy called back, not moving.</p><p>    When Sniper returned to the bedroom, Spy was dozing off. He cleared his throat before approaching, not wanting to make Spy attack him. “You’re not gonna fall asleep in your clothes, are ya?”</p><p>    “Forgive me if I don’t really feel up to it after you attacked me, Bushman. Besides, if I recall correctly, you sleep in your clothes most nights.” Spy yawned.</p><p>    Alex sighed. “Sit up. I’ll help ya change.” He sifted through Spy’s luggage for some pajamas.</p><p>    Spy’s eyes snapped open at that. “You will not. I don’t- Absolutely not. You won’t.” Spy reached for his knife, making Sniper back away.</p><p>    “Damn- Okay, okay, calm down. I was just tryna help.” </p><p>    Spy relaxed a bit “I’d rather wait until I could do it alone. You don’t need to see me in such a manner.”</p><p>    “You’re actin’ like you secrete slime under there…” Sniper rubbed his eyes. “I’m goin’ to bed, then. Good night.” Sniper turned to leave.</p><p>    “Wait- You’re not going to sleep here?” Spy asked, his voice quiet.</p><p>    “Wouldja want me to? We aren’t really husbands, y’know? Besides, I probably snore.”</p><p>    Spy tried to come up with an excuse. “Well… What if I need you in the middle of the night to fetch me something?”</p><p>     “You don’t have a bloody voice? Huh?” Sniper leaned against the doorway.</p><p>     “My voice will get tired and tomorrow we will need to speak, no?” Spy continued with excuses.</p><p>     Sniper sighed “Fine. If you’re askin’ for it…” He settled into the bed beside Spy, trying to be as far away from Spy as possible.</p><p>     “Would you be more comfortable sleeping with Rosalee?” Spy offered.</p><p>     “I wouldn’t, because honestly? It freaks me out a bit.” Sniper stared at Spy, not daring to turn his back to him, not after all the nightmares he has of being backstabbed.</p><p>     “... Why? She’s perfect.” Spy frowned, genuinely not understanding.</p><p>     “Because it… It feels like you’re tryin’ to lie to me. I don’t know what for, but… It’s weird, nevermind.” He shook his head. “I guess if it makes you happy, it’s fine.”</p><p>     “... Elle n'était pas censée être un mensonge. Je suppose qu'elle l'est, mais... Elle n'a été créée que pour offrir un certain confort à... À vous. Et à Scout.” Spy swallowed hard, scared to have admitted this, even if it only made sense to him at present.</p><p>     “... I only understood Scout, mate. I don’t speak french.” He sighed quietly. “Do whatever you need, mate.”</p><p>     Spy hesitated, before moving a bit closer to cuddle. “I need to steal your warmth. I’m cold.”</p><p>     Sniper’s face was beet red. “... Right. Uh… Good night.”</p><p>     “Good night, Bushman.” Spy closed his eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>    The next morning, the two were practically intertwined together, cheek to cheek, Spy draped on top of Sniper. He woke up first, startling as he tried to quickly get off of the other and straighten his clothes. This panicked movement caused Sniper to stir as well, groaning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Spook? Everythin’ all right?” He rubbed his eyes, sitting up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You had the gall to </span>
  <em>
    <span>cuddle </span>
  </em>
  <span>me last night, you heathen!” Spy scoffed, trying to gaslight his way out of shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “... You… Asked me to?” Sniper blinked in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Spy straightened his mask, his feathers clearly ruffled “I was weak! From blood loss! That means nothing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Well sorry I can’t fuckin’ decipher your bullshit, mate.” Sniper rolled his eyes, trudging out of the bedroom to start breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Spy huffed, trailing after Sniper. “How </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> you get smarter. If I had known you’d catch on I never would have let you…” Spy trailed off, starting to laugh. “... Mon dieu, what on earth is wrong with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Ah? Ya finally realized you sometimes sound bloody ridiculous?” Sniper teased, starting a pot of coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I have made the conscious decision to ignore you, Bushman. I’m going to take a shower, I like my eggs poached with salt, pepper, and paprika. Unless you’re doing omelets, then I n-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Oh my god, I do not have the mental space for all that, mate.” Sniper cut Spy off in the middle of his orders, laughing softly. “If you need all that, you’re gonna have t’ stick around and help. Them’s the rules, unless I get to ignore ya back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Spy sneered “I do not cook, Mundy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I actually have photographic evidence to prove ya wrong, mate.” Sniper dug in his vest, producing several photos of Spy wearing a pretty red apron while cooking on base. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You… Took blackmail of me?” Spy’s voice was strained as he saw these photos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Blackmail if ya like, I call it ‘proof you’re not an absolute monster incapable of feelin’’. Really, who d’ya think you were foolin’ with that? We all know the others take turns, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>take turns. You do, too. So why are you actin’ so… Weird about it?” Sniper narrowed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “... It’s undignified.” Spy swallowed hard, his shoulders tense as he grimaced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sniper groaned, rolling his eyes. “Oh gracious, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> your majesty. How dare you be human, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Spy took a deep breath. “I wasn’t allowed to be. I am the perfect weapon and this changes </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Fine. Fine, I will cook, and I will act, but outside of this? You are just another useless pawn to me.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too far again.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Spy scolds himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you want this to go by smoothly you can’t call him something like that you idiot.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>    “... All right, yeah. Sure. Tell yourself that.” Sniper shook his head, starting some omelets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Breakfast was tense, and they dressed for the day quietly, Spy catching Sniper looking at his chests. At the wound and… At the scars underneath Spy’s nipples. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Stop looking at me, Mundy.” Spy growled, covering his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sniper did so, flushing “... Sorry. I just, uh… I know Engie’s been thinkin’ about top surgery, too. And he was wonderin’ if it would affect him much besides obvious changes.” Sniper shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Spy blinked, caught off guard “... I was not aware that he… Tell him that it’s going to hurt, he will have </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> soreness if he doesn’t rest for a couple of months, no work,  and if he’s been binding improperly, there may be complications in surgery. Do not tell him I said this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sniper rushed to get a notepad and write that down “Right- Thanks mate, he’ll really appreciate it. He’s been on the fence for ages now that he’s got the kinda money to cover it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “... And for christ’s sake, tell him to sit up straight when binding.”  Spy scoffed, continuing to get dressed.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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